these hands were meant to hold
by lexwritesfanfics
Summary: One distraction can change the course of everything. Amy and Jake learn that the hard way. /Multichapter Peraltiago fic set at the beginning of season 2/
1. Chapter 1

Amy remembered the very moment she fell for Jake.

It was the same night he fell for her—on the stakeout, while they were adorably throwing nuts in the air and catching them in their mouths. It's a lot less dirty than it sounds. She remembered him taking the phone call with Holt, and while he was distracted, she stole admiring glances at him while taking handfuls of peanuts and tossing them into the air. Everybody has always thought that Jake had unrequited feelings that night, but they were wrong. Amy swore she would never admit it, but that night was her "Oh shit, I have feelings" moment.

Then it all got messed up—she started dating Teddy, he went undercover, and so much happened. When she started dating Teddy, it was because she had assumed Jake would never feel the same way. Plus, a jokester and a pushover would not be a great duo. So she pushed down her feelings until the night Jake was fired.

"I don't know what's gonna happen on this assignment, and if something bad goes down, I'd be pissed at myself if I don't say this: I kinda wish something...could happen...between us...romantic-stylez. And I know it can't, 'cause you're with Teddy, and I'm going undercover, and that's just how it is. Anyway, we're not supposed to have any contact, so I should go," he said to her in one final goodbye. And then he just left. With no explanation or a chance for Amy to admit her feelings.

What he said struck a chord with Amy. If he did get hurt, what would happen? Would she ever be able to tell him the truth? These questions plagued her thoughts for an entire week, and eventually, when Teddy noticed something was wrong, she spilled everything. How Teddy was boring, she hated pilsners, and even that there was someone else. Surprisingly, Teddy was understanding.

"Well, Amy, I'm kind of surprised by all of that, but I can't say that I didn't know something was up. Listen, I'm not going to stand in your way of what you want," he had said. Then he blocked her on Facebook and iMessage, but hey, what can you do?

It's been nearly six months since Jake went undercover. There was never any news given to them at the office, and no one besides the inner circle even knew that Jake Peralta was undercover in the mafia. It was making Amy worried sick—did undercover ops even last this long? Was Jake dead and no one was telling her?

The young detective turned back to the coffee machine in the dirty and disgusting break room while sighing heavily. After so many months, it hadn't gotten any better. The anxiety she felt whenever Jake haunted her mind was crippling, and there was no way she could do her work in that condition. There was no way to tell what it was about the other officer that made her heart pound, but either way, Amy had to keep her feelings under wraps around her colleagues. Looking at her watch, Amy groaned heavily, seeing it was almost time to leave. Even though it was difficult at work with Peralta gone, it was abysmal when she was alone with her thoughts in her homely apartment. Usually, Santiago would stay late to do work and get her mind off of her problems, but Holt and the other squad members have become a little suspicious.

The coffee was scalding hot and disgusting, but at least her mouth burns turned her attention to the pain. At her desk, Amy shuffled around some papers and took out her favorite highlighters to break down her plan to infiltrate a drug-trafficking ring in Brooklyn. Somehow, not even her multicolored labeling cheered her up on this particularly depressing day. Still, the officer took another sip of the atrocious coffee and continued sorting the different sections of her detailed strategy proposal.

A creaking noise interrupted Amy's thought process and she turned around to see Captain Holt leaving his office.

"Santiago. Boyle. Diaz. Jeffords. In my office," he commanded. Immediately, Detective Santiago rushed out of her chair and into the small room that was decorated with medals and boring objects.

"What's this about, sir?" Rosa questioned as she closed the door behind her. Holt looked at each one of them for a moment before continuing.

"Detective Peralta's stint with the mafia is coming to an end. Tomorrow, a wedding is taking place in a private venue in northern Brooklyn, another precinct over. The FBI has decided to extract Peralta at the wedding and arrest the Iannucis at the ceremony. You all need to be there." Amy gasped at the words he spoke.

"So Jake—I mean, Detective Peralta—isn't hurt or dead or anything?" she wondered.

"Not yet, but we need to make this invasion go as smoothly as possible or there is a chance Peralta will be injured," Holt replied stoically. Charles squealed happily and ran out of the office before even being dismissed. Shaking his head, Holt muttered something about finishing his sentence and dismissed the group before sitting down in his comfortable chair and putting on his reading glasses. As Amy walked out grinning, Rosa caught up to her with the closest to a smirk she could manage.

"So you're happy Jake's coming back, I can tell," she murmured. Diaz had always been one to tease Amy, especially when the latter revealed that Jake said he liked her. In response, Amy simply rolled her eyes and sat down once again. After 10 minutes, it was clear that there was no way she was getting any work done at all. Instead of staying at work and finishing up paperwork, she decided to grab her beige bag and head home.

The subway was surprisingly crowded that night. During the trip to her street, the girl sat stiffly, making sure most of her gray and salmon suit wasn't touching the disgusting seats. After a short journey on the M train, Santiago hurried to her apartment building and pressed the golden button next to the shining elevator doors. She paid little attention to the people who had also gotten into the contraption with her—a man with blonde hair who looked surprisingly like Anthony Rapp, and a girl holding a lizard and stroking it. Amy looked away subtly and practically sprinted off of the elevator when the voice announced that they were at the 6th floor.

Her apartment was a mess—there was a crumpled up paper on the floor, and she had forgotten to put back her spoon from breakfast. Okay, so maybe not a mess to most people, but it definitely qualified for Amy Santiago. As soon as she cleaned up a bit more, she stripped in her bedroom and changed into her comfortable pajamas. Trying to clear her head wasn't working, no matter how much Property Brothers she watched on TV.

Jake liked Property Brothers.

Everything reminded her of him, no matter where she was. Even though the both of them were terribly annoyed by each other most of the time, she knew _so much_ about him. From his addiction to HGTV to his Minnie Mouse ears from Disney World, there were so many things she could use to tease him daily. And now that she couldn't make fun of him, everything was just _that_ much more apparent. Amy had to admit, though, she was excited to be getting him back tomorrow. She desperately needed to explain and talk with him about their last goodbye.

It's not like he meant it, right? How could _any_ guy ever possibly have feelings for her that didn't include the words "buzzkill" and "boring"? Amy had to admit, she had some insecurities when it came to relationships. She wasn't confident like Gina or Rosa, and she wasn't overly emotional like Charles. So when someone did show any signs of, god forbid, _emotion_ towards her that were, as Jake put it so delicately, "romantic stylez", she ran away. Which is why when Jake left immediately after his long winded speech about his feelings, she dwelled on it for so long. _He could have just been caught up in the moment_ , Amy thought. It was as if nothing anyone said could convince her that she was desirable.

She knew Jake had problems in relationships, too. It didn't take great detective work to deduce that he had deep seated abandonment issues that stemmed from his dad leaving him at a young age. In a way, it made her feel better about her issues. The thought of other people having problems with romantic stuff was comforting and soothing to Amy. At least she knew that she wasn't alone.

As her television was still on and the Property Brothers were still blabbing on about paint colors, Amy tried her hardest to finally fall asleep. After trying literally _everything_ to release her thoughts from her mind, she finally decided to go the old fashioned way—counting sheep. Although she felt childish and immature while doing it, she couldn't deny that within 5 minutes, her head was against her pillow and there were no longer any thoughts about Jake coursing through her head.

* * *

The next morning was nervewracking. As she got dressed in another "boring" pantsuit, concerns about Peralta's stint coming to an end tugged on her brain, causing her anxiety to act up. Jake was finally coming back to her.

It was happening.

Subconsciously, Amy Santiago put on more makeup than she usually would—no doubt because she was seeing Jake for the first time since the speech he gave her. Never had she been more excited and nervous to go into work before in her life. Not even when she transferred to the Nine-Nine. After brushing through her hair and throwing it in a ponytail, Amy grabbed her beige work bag and bolted out of the apartment.

Work for the first hour was boring. There was a lot of tedious paperwork to do, and although Amy loved paperwork, she was more focused on the mission that night. At around 10 AM, Holt called them into his office and gave them instructions on where to meet. They were ordered to put on full tactical gear after their meeting in the briefing room, where Holt led the charge in explaining their strategy and what was going to go down. Officers from all over Brooklyn showed up at the Nine-Nine, gear in hand and ready to fight. Peralta knew everybody, so it was no surprise that other precincts were joining in on the bust.

"Remember, I want Santiago to retrieve Peralta from the room and bring him into the truck immediately after. We cannot have any chance of him getting hurt while he has no gear on. In addition, I would like to remind all of you that when Detective Peralta mentions dry meatballs, we are charging and arresting as many people as we can. Understood?" Holt stood stoically at the front of the room. The room was packed with Detectives and officers from all over Brooklyn, and it was hard to move. Everyone nodded and Holt dismissed them to put their tactical gear on and get ready.

Amy was ready in minutes and instantly found the truck outside that would take them to the private venue. Already, she could feel her pulse racing and her heart was ready to burst from her chest. Usually, she wasn't like this on duty, but for some reason she was anxious about this one. Soon, the technical truck that she, Holt, Boyle, and Diaz were going to be in was equipped and prepared, and they drove off to the site they were going to be waiting for the signal in.

Prior to them getting there, she had been told that Peralta was going to be wearing a wire underneath his suit so they could hear the cue. They just had to wait for him to mention dry meatballs and they would be on their way in. Luckily, their microphones were surprisingly good quality, so Amy would be able to hear exactly when she needed to retrieve Jake. Even with all of the other trained officers around her, she couldn't help but feel worried. If something went wrong, she would be to blame and she would never forgive herself. Before she could finish her worrying, Amy heard a voice coming through the speaker in the trailer.

"So thrilled to be here today," announced the voice. She recognized that voice. It was Jake Peralta's—with a slight accent to fit in with his good ol' mafia buddies. Swiftly, a wave of relief came crashing down on her, and a weight was practically lifted off of her shoulders. It was as if, all of a sudden, there was a moment where she could breathe, where she could put her thoughts at the back of her mind and stand there without a doubt. The sound of his toast carried throughout the Nine-Nine's trailer, like music to their ears. Amy could swear she saw Rosa smile and Charles wipe a tear from his eye. Laughter rang in their ears as Jake made a joke about being a dirty cop, and even though his toast was at a mafia wedding, Amy couldn't help but agree with what he said about life sentences. Surprisingly, his speech was heartfelt and emotional—he was a great actor. Although, it did make some sense that he would be a bit close to them after being in close proximity with the mobsters for six months.

Amy was so wrapped up in her joy and ecstasy for Jake's wellbeing that she almost didn't catch him saying the signal through his microphone. Instinctively, she grabbed her gun and ran out of the vehicle first, determined to get into the room first to capture Jake in all of his glory. Weighing down on her, the heavy tactical gear clung to her body as she kicked open the door with another agent and shouted, "NYPD, put your hands in the air!"

As the other FBI agents and NYPD officers sprinted past her at full speed with handcuffs out and guns drawn, Jake turned around in what seemed to be the most cliché slow-motion turn ever in history, and let loose one of his famous Peralta grins. Her insides were practically goo looking at his goofy face that she had been missing for too long. Dashing towards Jake, she completely forgot about orders and hugged him for the first time in a while. Jake engulfed her with one hand in her hair and one around her shoulders. However, they remembered where they were and abruptly separated, albeit not entirely. Their faces were practically a millimeter apart for a moment as they gazed into each other's eyes and took in everything about the other in at a million miles a minute. It seemed as if had been hours since they first noticed each other when it had in fact been seconds. Criminals were still running amok and they didn't even realize.

"Hey," Peralta started and stepped back.

"As much as I'd love to continue this, we've got to get you out of here. Come on," Amy commanded. She tugged on his hand that was still in hers and tried to rush him out of the venue as quickly as possible.

She almost didn't notice the bullet penetrate his abdomen from his right side.


	2. Chapter 2

Amy never really believed all of those action movies where the bullet goes in slow motion as it inches towards its final target. Frankly, she thought it was bullshit. Everyone—including her father—had always told her that it happened way too fast, that when your partner or another officer is shot, you didn't even notice until they crumpled on the floor.

They were wrong.

Before even noticing the bullet coming towards Jake, Amy Santiago had been eyeing one of the criminals who wasn't in handcuffs yet. It was all such a frenzy; no one really fully understood what was happening besides the whole throwing murderers and extortionists in jail thing. He had the familiar brown locks of an Iannuci family member, but she didn't automatically assume because most of the people in the room looked the same to her. When she finally noticed he had a gun in his hand, it was too late. She had shouted "Gun!" but the trigger was already pulled before the man himself was tugged back by two FBI agents.

The brown bullet seemed to crawl towards Jake, and as soon as Amy shouted, he turned to scope out the area. She had no idea where the bullet was headed until it was too close to move him, because he would get even more injured if she tried to change the trajectory of the metal object. Almost instantly, Jake collapsed under his own body and his hands shot towards his right lower abdomen, where there was blood pooling out of the black and white suit he was wearing.

"Holt! Officer down, I repeat, _officer down_! It's Jake, we need a medic," she shouted in a frenzy, and when she met Holt's eyes, he darted outside to get the paramedics. Amy took a _fucking tablecloth_ off of a counter and pressed it into his abdomen to try and stop the bleeding.

"Ah, damn, this was an expensive suit." Peralta chuckled as he wheezed out those words with a lopsided smile that she had missed so much. Amy couldn't lose it again. Even when he was bleeding out, the detective managed to be witty and make a joke. The girl rolled her eyes at him, but was still seriously concerned about her partner. Interrupting her thoughts, a medic came and put Jake on a gurney and began to carry him out while still pushing in the cloth. There was literally no way in hell that Amy would leave Jake, so she darted out with them. After a moment of begging, they agreed to let her ride in the ambulance. After a quick goodbye to Holt, the doors closed and they took off wildly down the road.

Closing her eyes, Amy went through the prior scenario at the wedding. Where had she gone wrong? Surely, she was going to be fired for this awful mistake that has put her partner's life in peril. For a moment, she couldn't remember anything but the suit Peralta was donning becoming stained with crimson. _What had the shooter been doing when he pulled the trigger?_ she questioned to herself. Amy recalled being suspicious of the man who was not yet restrained by officers. _Oh, my god,_ Amy thought, _he was aiming at me._ She was familiar with the man's face—he was Leo Iannuci, the mobster Jake first met after he got fired from the NYPD. That was all she knew about Jake's time with the mafia, because everything was on a need-to-know basis, but it was enough to go on.

She was the reason that her partner was bleeding out in the back of an emergency vehicle, with a paramedic desperately bandaging a wound that would probably never fully heal.

She was the reason Jake Peralta was shot.

You know, Amy always hated hospitals. The chilly hallways were lined with rooms of people who were taking their last breath, saying goodbye to former friends, and crying into their mother's shoulder as they were told they had two months to live. Perhaps it was the fact that she was strolling along the tiles because she had nearly killed her partner, but that day, it seemed to be much more horrendous than prior times.

The idea of Jake shielding her from the bullet unknowingly chased her down the entire passage way of the hospital. After a few wrong turns, Amy finally discovered the waiting room sitting in an odd corner of the building. Metal chairs clashed with wooden tables with magazines sprawled across their surfaces. If there was a somewhat better chair, she would have taken it, but sadly even in the empty room there were none available. Unhappily, the detective plopped down into a chair and covered her face with her hands. Moments ago, she had been in the back of an EMS, close to tears with a blood stained vest. Now, her heart had stopped pumping so hard that there was a possibility that it would surge out of her chest and into one of the empty silver chairs across from her. Still, she was wearing her tactical gear with mostly burgundy letters that spelled out NYPD. It would be so obvious to anyone that walked in that she was a cop, but she didn't care. Peralta's near-death experience was still on her mind, threatening to override her logistics and cause her to storm into surgery just to see how he was.

The next few hours were the most boring yet anticipating of her life. Charles and Holt both arrived first, with tears pouring out of Boyles' eyes and him falling into the chair next to Amy. Holt gave a small nod to Santiago before turning away and she _swore_ she could see the man wipe away something from underneath his eye. Rosa came running in, literally sweating because her patrol car somehow broke down 10 blocks away from the hospital, and even though Diaz was practically devoid of any emotions, she cared enough about Jake to run that far to see him. Soon, they got a call from Terry saying that he was a few minutes away, and he had to call the sitter to get her to stay for a few more hours. Once he arrived, it was as if the whole team was mourning his absence. Except for one.

"What happened and where the _hell_ is Jake?" a familiar voice screamed as it burst through the dense door of the waiting room. There Gina was, live and in the flesh, with red eyes and hair that looked as if it had been carried away in Dorothy's tornado. Maybe it was just Amy, but the insensitive woman seemed to be a complete mess, unlike ever before. Briefly, Boyle seemed to try to pat Gina's slumped shoulders, but she flinched and his hand traveled back to his side. The mood became heavier for a while as the team sat in distressing silence, waiting to hear from the doctor. Each were consumed with their own thoughts, not even noticing when the surgeon entered the room.

Amy was the first to see the woman. She immediately hopped up from the freezing chair and leaned towards the doctor. "Is Jake alright? What's happening?" The others followed suit in standing up, surrounding her.

"Detective Peralta is going to be fine. The bullet didn't hit any major arteries or organs, but he did lose quite a bit of blood on the way here. If someone hadn't tried to stop the bleeding, he would most likely have bled out," the doctor responded sympathetically. "You can go see him in about 3 hours, when he's more stable. The patient won't likely wake up before tomorrow morning, through."

All of the officers and Gina released a breath which could only be described as of relief. While Holt continued to speak with the doctor, Amy collapsed in her chair and closed her eyes, attempting to fall asleep.

* * *

With a start, Amy woke up. She was jolted from her dreams by a light tap on the shoulder by a finger belonging to Boyle.

"Amy, we've all gone to see Jake already. You've been asleep for about 6 hours, but it's your turn to go in and take a moment with him if you'd like. We'll wait for you," he gently murmured. Amy shook her head vigorously, trying to both get a point across and wake herself up.

"No, Charles, you all go home. It's been a long night and you deserve some rest." Before he could respond, Amy turned down the hall outside of the waiting room, not exactly sure where to go. Sometime after she began on her journey, she came upon a desk where she stopped for directions.

"I'm looking for Jake Peralta. Where is he?" she questioned. The man at the counter looked down at his computer monitor before directing her to room 238. Gliding down the hallway, she silently prepared herself for what he might look like. Was he going to be pale and ugly and broken? Probably. The possibilities were endless, and it was pretty much her fault.

She pushed the door and was overwhelmed by the sight of her partner laying on a hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of devices and machines. It was as if he himself had become a mechanical apparatus since the last time she saw him. The crumpled snack wrappers in the trash can signified that the rest of the squad had been in to visit already—more specifically Boyle. In times of stress, the man resorted to eating junk food, even though he denied it every single time that the topic came up in conversation. Thinking of her friends, Amy absentmindedly pulled the chair to the edge of Jake's bed. He seemed so serene; laying on his bed with his hand peeking out from under the covers. A ghost of a smile danced on Amy's lips as she took notice of the fingers dangling from the cot. Even though he was deathly pale and looked tired as hell, his hands were still the same.

It was a weird thing to fixate on. His hands, of course, would be the same as always. But Amy remembered Jake handing her files, passing discreet notes, making obscene hand gestures with those hands. She remembered the Halloween heist with Holt where those hands were handcuffed to a desk in the interrogation room while she stood behind the glass, smirking at the magnificent plan they had concocted. Those hands had held a box filled with all of his belongings before he walked away from the Nine-Nine six months ago. And those hands had been around her waist a few hours prior, second before a bullet penetrated his abdomen.

It's really funny to Amy how one split second can literally change the course of life. When she was 6 years old, she had seen her father take down a criminal right outside of their car as they were driving down the streets of Brooklyn, and she knew she wanted to become a detective in that moment. It was that one second where she decided what she was going to do with her life, and she ended up in a hospital room with a fellow detective who was shot in the line of duty. That, too, had changed the course of Jake's life. His life had been going seemingly perfect—he was working undercover, living in the city, and putting his skills to the test. In an instant, he was on the floor with a bloodied tux and a hole in his skin.

One of the things that Santiago and Peralta always had in common was their utter love for the job. Practically every day, Jake mentioned how he had wanted to become a detective ever since he watched Die Hard at age 11 ("It's rated R, Jake!" "I can't help it if I was an edgy pre-teen."). Through their differences, they had managed to establish this rapport with each other about a month after they became partners. By sharing stories of their childhood NYPD dreams, the two became closer as partners and colleagues. Not everything was the same about their ambitions, though. While Amy hoped to someday be promoted to captain, though, Jake was fine with staying below that rank and continuing to do amazing detective work. Sometimes, Peralta would tease her for her aspirations when he caught her daydreaming about being the one in the big office, being the one in control.

A rustle from outside the door snapped Amy out of her imagination, and she noticed the surgeon standing in the doorway, looking at her.

"Visiting hours are pretty much over, you know," the doctor whispered.

"I think I'm going to stay overnight today. Thanks, though, Dr….Freeman," Amy replied, reading the name off of the tag on the surgeon's shirt. Dr. Freeman gave Amy an understanding look of sympathy.

"So how long have you two been together?" asked the woman. Quickly, Amy shook her head.

"We're only partners at the NYPD. Not dating. But we've been partners for about seven years now," the detective shrugs.

"Oh, I'm sorry for misunderstanding. Well, I've got to go, but good night," responded the surgeon while checking her watch. After she turned and left the room, Amy settled into her chair, trying to find a comfortable position close the bed. Finally, she gave up and simply sat in the chair, with her feet propped up on a spare table. She then was facing the same direction as her partner was. The girl's eyes traveled to Jake's smooth hands, and she decided to take one in hers and lay them on the bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, Amy Santiago was out.

* * *

In the morning, she was awoken by her neck throbbing with the pain of sleeping in a metal chair. _Should've asked for a cot,_ she thought miserably, raising her arms into the air and stretching really quickly before gazing at her watch and seeing that it was already 7 AM. She saw she had a text from Holt, telling her to take the morning off to check on Peralta. Obviously, the team didn't know she was still there. Groaning, she realized she still was wearing her sweaty tactical gear from the previous night.

"Come on, couldn't I have remembered to change?" she murmured to herself.

"I don't know, you look pretty cute in that tactical gear," a voice grumbled with a rasp. Amy whipped her head to her right, and saw Jake groggy but with both eyes open, staring at her with a slight smirk.

"Jake?"


End file.
